


Mumpsimus

by Jaetion



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Crack, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:42:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaetion/pseuds/Jaetion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of SWTOR drabbles that I've been posting on my tumblr.  Many of the stories' titles come from St. Vincent lyrics.  Updated 10/21/12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beat a Tattoo (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an early conversation with Felix, he talks briefly about serving under Jorgan. A great little tidbit - Makes the NPCs seem more real. They have/had their own lives with their own social networks, their own pasts that influence what they do with their futures

They stood at attention while he made inspections, two neat lines. When Jorgan got to Iresso, the solider managed to still look pleased with himself, despite the neutral expression.

Jorgan ignored it as he searched through Iresso’s uniform and bunk. Finding nothing out of order, at least nothing big enough to pull him out for, he finally gave in and motioned to the new tattoo. “You lose a bet, solider?”

Iresso grinned. “Got it in Nar Shaddaa during last shore leave, sir.”

“Uh huh. Regulation number 670-1-“

“Refer to hair and cosmetics,” he interrupted, then added at Jorgan’s stare, “sir. I checked before I had it done.”

He was still standing at attention, hands clasped behind him, shoulders flat, head up. And still grinning. Jorgan let that slide; Iresso was a good soldier, stupid personal decisions aside. It was a big one, from cheek down to collar. Some bad interpretation of Zabrak tattoos, Jorgan thought. “Had to be the face, huh.”

“Hurt like a bitch, sir,” Iresso replied cheerfully.

“You should the one Lir got!” Kaelan called out, and Iresso added with a snicker, “More like where he got it.”

Down the line Lir leaned out of attention, shooting Iresso a dirty look. Jorgan snorted. “You can keep that to yourself, Lir.”


	2. Beat a Tattoo (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A character study of Nadia and Felix, and their friendship.

Her dark robes puddled around her legs as she sat on the floor of her room, trying to meditate. Nadia had been working on clearing her mind for what felt like hours, attempting to ignore the clicks and whirls of the engine and the clank of boots across metal floors, but when someone knocked on her door, she gave up completely. It wasn’t an excuse to stop, she told herself as she rose to her feet, it was simply being polite. Her knees cracked as she moved and she banished an angry word from the tip of her tongue before she started cursing.

When Nadia opened the door Felix Iresso, the soldier her master had plucked from the icy tundra of Hoth, grinned down at her. He was in his armor still, the white of Republic soldiers with orange stars on his shoulders. “Hey. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

”No, not at all,” she assured him hurriedly. They hadn’t spoken much, but she was pleased to see him and not Tharan Cedrex. “I was just… thinking.”

“Probably have a lot to think about,” he said mildly. “Congratulations on it. Your dad would be proud. So what do I call you? Jedi Nadia? Master Grell?”

Nadia waved her hands to dismiss the titles. “Neither. I’m just a padawan, not a Jedi yet. And definitely not a Master. Just Nadia is fine. Um. What should I call you? You were a Lieutenant, right?”

“Still am.” He rubbed the back of his neck and Nadia could feel - through the Force like a real Jedi! - a wave of affection as he thought about his unit. At that moment she felt a closeness to him; she understood the confusing jumble of conflicting emotions that were created upon Master Sade’s acceptance. There was no way to cut through the ties to one’s old life, and even with all that a position on the Defender could offer, anxiety and regret still bound her. Nadia studied him with new interest and he grinned again under her inspection. This smile was more sheepish and made him look more like a big brother than a commanding officer. “But you’re not one of my boys; you don’t have to call me LT.”

Nadia had heard Tharan and Zenith refer to him as Iresso, but Master Sade used his given name. Neither seemed right to Nadia, one too distant and one too close, so instead she echoed, “LT. I like it. Can I call you that? Is that ok?”

“Sure. Now, I came down to tell you that food’s ready. You hungry?”

“I’ll come up,” she answered and followed him up the stairs.

“Good excuse as any to put off training, huh?” he said over his shoulder at him. She ducked her head and mumbled something into her robes, and he chuckled. “Don’t worry - I won’t tell your master on you.”

“Thanks, LT.” This time when he smiled at her, Nadia smiled back.


	3. My Face Is Red From Reading Your Red Lips (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first kiss between Lt. Felix Iresso and Jedi Consular Sade.

He said to meditate on it, a parting comment that she didn’t realize was a teasing joke until later as she moved restlessly in her room. The peace she usually obtained during meditation was unreachable; Sade closed her eyes and opened her mind, but it was Lt. Iresso’s warm hands that touched her, not the cool calm of the Force.

Warm hands. Warm lips. Under that armor, his body would be hot and hard and-

She got up and paced around her bed, pouring herself a drink but then leaving the cup full to drift away, back to the door. Finally she dropped onto her bed and grabbed a pillow, holding it against her chest as she rolled like a child across the mattress. She wanted to jump and giggle, but settled on smiling at the ceiling.


	4. In Which Sade Learns about Tentacle Porn (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IDK, I figure that as someone who's been in deep Jedi training since childhood, the Consular is incredibly awkward when it comes to intimacy. Sade learns about sex the hard way.

She may have been a hologram, but Sade could see no limitations in Holiday's understandings or sympathies and so when she offered to assist in Sade's rapidly complicating relationship with the Lieutenant, Sade accepted with relief. "I'm not completely ignorant," Sade told Holiday while the hologram nodded and patted Sade's shoulder as well as she was able. "But perhaps I do need some training."

Meditation had not proved fruitful, nor had independent study. Denial had been simply out of the question; it was neither in her nature nor her Jedi teachings to blind herself. And Lieutenant Iresso's (Felix, a name that she whispered and blushed at) slow, knowing smiles and slow, lingering touches that made her shiver in her robes made only one thing clear: she needed more. But more of what or how to get more and then what to do with said more was beyond Sade's ability to reason. In fact, the whole thing seemed immune to reason, even opposed to reason. Very vexing.

And exciting.

"Oh sweetheart," Holiday said with a fond giggle, "you can't call it training. That's so unromantic. But I'll see what I can find! I'm sure I can pull up something interesting."

Sade didn't have to wait long. A day later, Holiday retrieved a variety of resources, as promised, loading them onto Sade's datapad with a note: "I think you'll enjoy these! Tharan highly recommends them. ;)" Sade was sure that she would. The hologram was an information expert, after all, and with Tharan's high, scientific standards, his approval was a certain indication of quality.

The Jedi finally found time to dedicate to her education one quiet night, when most of the ship had settled to recover from another long day of their taxing, though important, work. She expected the meeting room to be empty, the ambassadors to have long since retired, but when the door opened Zenith looked up from the table.

"Good evening," she said and he nodded his own greeting. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Your ship," Zenith replied with a shrug.

"Holiday sent me some lectures," she explained as she sat down. "I hope they won't disturb you."

"Shouldn't."

When the music started, they both startled and she fumbled to turn down the volume. "That may prove distracting..."

"Holiday sent you this? What the hell is it?"

"Training." The music hadn't stopped; she wasn't sure how she would be able to focus on the lecture with it in the background. She said over the low throbbing base viol, "It's by a Dr. Stuf'full'ocox." When Zenith gaped at her, she added for clarification, "I believe that's how you pronounce it; it seems to be a Chiss name."

"Jedi-"

But whatever Zenith was going to say was lost in a strangled cough. Sade barely heard it though: an image of the lecturer had appeared at last and she stared at it with interest. The doctor was Twi'lek, her lekku swinging as she sashayed toward a long vertical bar. Without warning she flung off her coat, revealing a tiny triangle loincloth and her otherwise completely naked body. She swung around the pole. Sade's hands flew up to cover her mouth.

And that's when the tentacles appeared.


	5. Robes (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix Iresso admires Sade's new robes. And dat ass.

They were heavier, richer than the Jedi robe he’d only seen her out of once. They hung differently, clung differently. They met in one of the Fleet’s cantina’s afterward, squeezed around a small table on uncomfortable stools with expensive watery drinks. Not that Felix was complaining. It did mean that he could press his leg against Sade’s without Nadia being any wiser, after all.

Even just sitting she looked gorgeous, like a hero from the holos he’d watch as a kid. The robes were pearly with gold necklaces that stacked up her slender neck. When he dragged his hand up her back - the place was dark enough, he could get away with it - the material was smooth and satiny over the firm plating. Around her sides, though, there was just the fabric, a silky layer over her warm skin. When he stroked her muscles tensed and shivered, and -

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?” 

Nadia was frowning at them and even Zenith looked interested, for once. They moved away guiltily and Felix forced a chuckle before tossing back the rest of his drink. “Long day,” he told Nadia and Sade nodded quickly. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

He tried to listen to whatever Nadia was saying, really. Something about some construction project somewhere. When she finally took a breath, Sade rose from her seat, the long robes sliding around her legs when she stood. “No, stay here. It’s my turn to get drinks. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll help.” He announced, way too loud, and was glad at least Cedrax wasn’t around to add his running commentary to it all. Nadia and Zenith were both looking suspicious though, so he added as he backed away, “You guys wait here. Just… hold tight.”

Not that he really cared what either of them thought. They weren’t his soldiers or his officers; they could think whatever the hell they wanted. Besides… Sade’s ass looked amazing. It was like the damn thing had been designed to rivet his eyes to her hips. The official Jedi robes that she’d always worn before had done a good job at making her look like some unapproachable apostle. Now without the hood he could see all of her face, the curves of her ears and all her long hair that she kept in a tight bun, which she’d taken down for him once already.


	6. The Stage Is Waiting (Sith Inquisitor Dashelt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twi'lek-slave-turned-Sith Dashelt walks free in Kaas City.

As a slave she’d been forbidden to enter the capital. Now, as a Sith, she stood at the entrance, half-expecting a bolt of lightning or some other portent to strike. Nothing happened, of course, no signs and no warnings, though there were a plethora of nasty looks and thinly veiled insults from some of the human citizens. Her lightsaber prevented them from approaching. That or Khem Val. Dashelt wished that they would dare to come within striking distance, or even within speaking distance, so she could prove to the city just who she was.

But they didn’t matter. She blocked out their infernal whispering and childish pointing as she stalked the streets. Blocked them out, but did not forget them; hadn’t all the philosophies of Korriban say to let hate be her strength?

But the soldiers she liked. “My lord,” they called her, deferring to her no matter what she said to them. “Of course, my lord.” 

My lord. She repeated the title as they walked. Lord Dashelt. Sith Lord Dashelt. Darth Dashelt, someday. Whatever her name would be in the future, it would no longer be slave.


	7. Spectacle We've Made (Sith Inquisitor Dashelt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twi'lek-slave-turned-Sith visits Nar Shaddaa.

Khem Val was unimpressed, but nothing moved that monster: For the first time since leaving her owner’s slave-filled estate, Dashelt was surrounded by Twi’leks. The smugglers’ moon of Nar Shaddaa was bright with them. She boggled at them, surreptitiously of course, watching them from the corner of her eye, staring at their lekku swinging down their backs, counting them as she moved slowly through the crowds. 

There, wiggling like a worm on a hook deep inside her chest was a realization: she had missed them. Twi’lek, the ones she’d left behind. She admitted it briefly, then buried it with rationalization: she missed their colors. So much more attractive than the bland humans, whose skin tones were merely washed out shades compared to Twi’lek skin.

They were probably slaves, she thought as she followed a pair of them who looked remarkably like Jinsho and Pa’lan. And if they weren’t they were likely as poverty stricken as the rest of the moon’s inhabitants, which could be even worse than slavery.


	8. Spinning Like Toys (Sith Warrior Kezmir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the final part of the SW questline on Balmorra. Kezmir sweeps her way through the arms factory.

Quinn had been monitoring her progress. Hacked into one of the lax security feeds, he could trail her path through the reports that were practically spamming the signal. She’d breached the main entrance, cut through the factory, been spotted in the administrative complex - unconfirmed, since no soldier lived long enough to send word back to Central.

He sat back in his chair and uncurled his hands. He was sweating in his uniform like it was his first mission. He’d been honest with her, of his underestimation of her talents and his anticipation of her success; he realized now, listening to the frantic chatter, that the Sith was even stronger than his second assessment had credited her and that he wasn’t merely excited, he was nearly exhilarated.


	9. The Awful Mess We've Made (Sith Warrior Kezmir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kezmir returns from a successful Huttball match.

“Recognize me as the Huttball champion,” she commanded when she came aboard. She dropped a bloody ball onto the floor - it landed wetly and rolled toward Vette, who made a noise and hopped out of the way. She had a black eye and a nose still bleeding, and her armor was torn up to her elbows. When she rubbed her hands together menacingly, blood dribbled down her wrists. The droid made some appeal to its maker before it started to mop the red trail she was leaving as she marched through the ship. “My enemies will despair this day forever! I have crushed the worms that dared opposed me. A goal and an assist! And I also punched that agent right in the mouth.”

“Congratulations, my Lord,” Quinn said, moving aside so his uniform wouldn’t be splattered when she passed. “Can I assume that we’re done with Nar Shaddaa for the moment?”

“I will give them time to recover,” she said magnanimously. “Next time, I expect you - both of you - to be in attendance. I demand cheering for my accomplishments.”


	10. Waiting (Sith Warrior Kezmir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kezmir uses meditation to spy and muse on her crew.

She had heard that some could read minds through the Force, but Kezmir had neither the patience nor time for such a dedicated study; she could, however, feel the emotions of her crew, the spikes and waves that they radiated through the metal spaces of her ship.

Vette’s mood fluctuated as she watched the stream of information from the holovid. Pleasure could rapidly disintegrate into a disgusted sadness, then shoot back up into gleeful spite. Meditating on the cool floor of her room, Kezmir reached out to feel Jaesa’s dark tendrils. Her apprentice was long smouldering embers in comparison to Vette’s agitation. Jaesa’s desire - for blood, for sex, for whatever she decided she wanted in that particular moment - was endless and untiring. She would be an excellent Sith, once honed.


	11. Crawling Through Landmines (Imperial Agent Asjary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asjary takes a respite of spying to enjoy the finer things that Balmorra has to offer. From the end of the agent questline on Balmorra.

She stayed on his lap, rocking her thighs in lazy thrusts while her hands drifted through his hair, down his shoulders.

When he breathed a sigh, it ruffled her hair. “That was…”

“Mm.” With her eyes closed and face nuzzled against his neck, it was easy to ignore the rest of the Balmorra. The kinks in her shoulders, the knots in her back, the tight ache of her scars relaxed away under his warm hands, and she had almost drifted into a doze when Sanju cleared his throat.

“I know so little about you.” He paused and his grip on her hips tightened when she started to pull back. “I know - It’s all classified. But I was hoping… That is, after you’re gone, I’d like to think about you. To remember you more than just Cipher Nine.”

Kaliyo would have laughed him out of the room. But looking at his wide eyes, the lines around them softened by their lovemaking, she felt something around her heart unclench a little, melt a little, like she’d been hit by a tranquilizing poison. She stroked her knuckles down his smooth cheek, then traced the curve of his bottom lip. “Az,” she said at last.

“Az?”

A nickname, safe to use. Too short to be used to identify her in the Agency. Everyone who had known her by it was dead anyway, family and friends long since buried or burnt away. When she nodded he smiled and said it again, testing her name. When she started to laugh he kissed her hard on the mouth, distracting them both for a few more desperate minutes.


	12. Sticks and Stones Have Made Me Smarter (Imperial Agent Asjary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Asjary and Kaliyo as they finish up their mission on Alderaan.

“You aren’t seriously going to eat those, are you?”

She rolled the… thing that Vector had given her in her hands, and was immensely thankful she was wearing gloves. “What’s wrong,” she mocked Kaliyo, who was staring at the thing with a look of abject horror, “too scared to give it a go?”

“It came out of a bug. A giant, nasty bug. Do I really need to explain this to you?”

“I thought you said you’d try anything once?”

“Not things that’d kill me. Look, let’s just blow the thing up along with the rest of the hive and that creepy bastard, tell your bosses the jedi did it, and then get ourselves a shuttle out of the galaxy. Three easy steps.”

Asjary tucked the egg - what had he called it? Orb? - into her bag. “It may be useful. Maybe we can lob it at an Organa.”

“And the Killik?”

“They may be useful too.”

“And if they’re not?”

She shrugged, jostling the rifle on her shoulder. “Bombs away. Only we get the credit, not the jedi.”

“I like the way you work, agent.”


	13. Medal for My Valor (Imperial Agent Asjary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Asjary lands on Belsavis.

It was nearly a vacation, and she laughed a bit of the irony of that realization. The Republic certainly knew how to build their prisons - another hallmark of their ineffectiveness. 

She searched through the corpse of one of the unlucky guards, rifling through bloody pockets until she found the woman’s passcodes. They moved out of the sunlight, back to the relative protection that the large coiling trees gave, and as she leaned against the cool wood, she compared it again to the massive prison the Empire had built to contain it’s secrets. If Watcher X had been sent to Belsavis instead of Nar Shaddaa -

It was pointless to extrapolate on the past. Az dusted off her gloves and checked her map. All she could do was keeping moving forward.

\---

When she was done, when she was released, she left with more questions on her list - more mysteries, more confusion, more obfuscations. They would be answered, eventually. Az’s sniper patience could wait.

The prison-planet shrunk and disappeared into the blackness as they flew back to the fleet. She inputted the calculations for light-speed and then began her rounds, pacing through her ship as she ran over the missions - debating what to include in her report and what she’d ask Vector to keep as their secrets.


	14. Soot of Power (Imperial Agent Asjary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written while playing my agent Asjary along side of my husband's Sith Inquisitor, Lord Carrm.

Like all Sith, she was haughty and apathetic, but at least Lord Carrm seemed capable of controlling the maniacal fits that other Sith were always throwing themselves into. The mission went smoothly, their goal met and even surpassed. 

They paused outside of the factory, breathing hard in the cloudy atmosphere. Only Vector seemed unperturbed by the thickness, the smell, the poison of the place. Perhaps it was a bad reaction to the inoculation they’d received in port or to the cocktail of other drugs already in her system, but Az was anxious. She cleaned gun with deliberate slowness, an excuse to stay seated and undistracted as her brain whirled through dozens of possible plans and outcomes. The location Republic’s stash blinked close on her map, but she wasn’t going to lead a Sith and her lackey there, have even more witnesses. She quelled a flash of paranoia - had the Sith been sent to intercept her? Az was not Watcher X; she was not going to follow his mistakes into her own ruin.

The Sith’s mercenary hawked and spat, and Az looked up from the rifle to catch him glaring at her. The distrust was mutual, then. She stood slowly, popping her joints deliciously as she moved, and slid her rifle into its place down her spine. 

Lord Carrm made a noise in her throat that may have been a laugh. She had been meditating - or whatever it was that the Sith did, pacing back in forth like a silent nexu - and stood refreshed, somehow more imposing for the mud and blood that splattered on her like war paint. “We make an excellent team, don’t you think?” she asked, touching the hilt of her light saber that hung at her hip. “I suspect Quesh will fall as easily as Taris.”


	15. Kaiserwalzer (Sith Inquisitor Dashelt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andronikos accompanies Sith Lord Dashelt as she travels to Korriban to find new apprentices. Set after the events on Quesh.

Sith-in-training scurried around the tomb, some following her path of destruction as she cut through the infestation of worms and robbers. It had been a trial back then; now Dashelt was a Lord and the dark corridors were lit in blinding whites as she blasted lightning across her stunned victims.

Easy.

"You ever miss this shit?" Andronikos asked as she cleared another room. He shoved away a corpse with his foot to take a closer look at some ancient Sith carvings. Weird, like everything else the Sith did.

"As much as you do floating in space, I imagine," she responded. With a careless flick she finished the last of the worms and they strolled through a patrol of awed guards who scrambled to bow as she passed.

Being back in the orange desert of Korriban's surface wasn't a big improvement from being in its graves. Andronikos pulled open his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but Dashelt was untouched by the sun's heat. She was in black robes, like usual, and it couldn't have been comfortable, but she didn't sweat or sigh, didn't even seem to notice. Could've done the whole thing naked and she probably would have the same bored expression. "Hey," he said, catching one of her lekku as they swung down her back. "You should get a slave girl get-up. One in gold. That'll get these Siths' attention."

She narrowed her green eyes, but she grinned a bit at him. "Would it get yours?"

"Yeah, maybe. If you do that sexy dance in it."

She pulled away and her lek slid out of his grasp. "Perhaps back in the ship. I don't exactly relish the sensation of sand in my ass."

He wanted to tease her more, get her excited enough that she'd pull him off to some secluded room in the Academy, but she got that dark aura again, the one she enshrouded herself in like putting on armor whenever she started dealing with the particularly nasty side of the Force. Maybe it was the ghosts reaching out or something, but whatever it was it gave out clear Back Off vibes, so Andronikos fell back a few steps and just watched instead of talked.

Not that he could see anything that set her off. There were noises in the sands that echoed against the tombs' walls, things crying or screaming somewhere too far for them to see. But there weren't any monsters or even many people. A few students, a few soldiers, couple of droids. He relaxed his grip on his blaster. Nothing. But in front of him Dashelt was still tense and wary. When they reached a set of stairs leading up to a landing pad, she stopped and stared for a moment that got long enough that he had to say something.

"Look Sith," he started, then paused to rub the back of his head. "Dashelt. I know Zash says we're supposed to work with this Harkon, but if you want, I'll shoot 'em for you."

She turned completely around to study him. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at the raised brand there. "No," she said at last. "Not yet, anyway."

She'd thought about it though. Andronikos didn't know much about her life before she'd showed up on Tantooine. Slavery and then a rebellion, then shipped to Korriban to be molded in the image of those who'd enslaved her to begin with. He was going to say something else as soon as he could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell her, but then Dashelt leaned over and touched his cheek. Lightly, gently, but he could still feel the Dark Side of the Force there inside her. "Back at the ship," she repeated, and this time it was a promise.


	16. I'll Be Swifter (Imperial Agent Asjary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to swtorwrite Prompt 9: Sex. Cipher Agent Asjary and Vector get into bed.

She was in the ‘fresher longer than expected, moving slowly under the hot water as she shed the blood and dirt from the last mission like some awful, offal second skin. When Asjary finally stepped clean - sore still, but at least no longer smelling like some bantha butchery - Vector was waiting for her. He was sitting cross-legged on their bed, half undressed and completely patient. 

“You didn’t need to stay up,” she said as she slipped next to him. His skin was warm under her hands and when she pressed her cheek again his lean back, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Which, she noted with a pleased smile, was speeding up under her administrations.

“We wished to speak with you.”

“Hm? About what?”

There was a long pause. Az stroked the long muscles that ran along his spine: the trapezius, which he’d torn on Belsavis; the latissimus dorsi, which she and Lokin had to cut through once to repair his axillary artery. She knew his body as well as her own now. Or perhaps even better; she had purged all the chemicals and implants that had been inserted while in Intelligence, but she worried about unknown agents still swimming through her system. Vector’s low sigh snapped her attention back to his sleek body and she prodded his sides to get him to speak.

“But that was before you came to bed. We can speak of it later.”

“If you can remember,” she teased as she eased herself down. Vector covered her with that gorgeous body of his, perfect and scarred and ready for her. She kissed his neck, his pulse rapid now, and ran her hands up to frame his face.

“We never forget,” he replied, ” but we can be distracted.”


	17. All Your Praying Moments (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to imagineyourotp prompt "Imagine person A of your OTP lustfully enjoying the view of person B’s body when they see person B naked for the first time." Jedi Consular Sade and Felix's first moments together as they become lovers.

Felix pulled the body glove over his head and dropped it on the pile of his armor. When he looked back down at her, her wide-eyed expression made him flush, hot and weak as if he’d really had picked up some fever on Belsavis. Sade stared at him with an intensity he could almost feel. 

Her hands were locked into fists in the bed sheets. She lifted one at last, but her hand stopped, hovering mid way between them and he had to take the step closer to get her to touch him. She did, just barely with her knuckles skimming over his side, but even that was perfect. Slow and carefully like she was studying, working and memorizing everything. Memorizing him. He never liked being looked at, not really, because someone would find the flaws that he’d missed, but standing stripped in front of her made all that vulnerability fall off and away. Look, he wanted to say. Don’t see anyone but me.

“Is this all right?” she asked, withdrawing her fingers and their warm pressure. “May I touch you?”

“Yeah. Please.”

Slow, but not tentative. Deliberate. Her palm moved up to his ribs, stopped to feel his heart pounding then slid to his side to pull him closer. When she spoke again, he could feel the breath of her words against his stomach and even that drove him crazy. “You’re so beautiful,” she said and maybe she sounded a little urgent herself.

“You are,” he said, leaning closer. He had to hold onto her shoulders to keep himself upright. Both hands were on him now, dragging slowly, but not tentatively down to his hips. Her fingers made long strokes down his muscles, her pace not speeding up even when he groaned her name. It was the most fantastic torture and he simultaneously wanted her to end it - fuck, soon, he couldn’t last - and never to stop. Sade had traveled farther, seen more, done more, been more then he’d ever even dreamed. But here she was, still staring at him, her eyes roving as indulgently as her hands. 

She smiled, more brilliant than any star. And then she said, because she knew everything or maybe because she knew everything about him, “There’s no one I want to be with more than you. No place I’d rather be than with you.”

He was going to tell her that he felt the same and that she was rubbing perfectly and that she needed to get out of her robes, but then she kissed him and he forgot completely how to do anything but kiss back.


	18. Build a Nest (Jedi Consular Sade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to imagineyourotp prompt "Imagine your OTP in bed, early morning. Person A is still asleep, curled up in the covers. Person B is awake, just watching them, smiling softly." Jedi Consular Sade wakes before Felix and watches as he sleeps beside her.

Felix slept like a soldier: falling asleep quickly and waking up in an instant. Coming to and leaving bed as she did at strange hours, Sade learned how to keep her movements smooth and quiet to prevent disturbing him. Even in his slumber he was responsive, rolling to press against her when she slid beside him.

She woke before him but for once had no pressing reason to get up. A meeting later, reports always, but a morning free of obligations. Sade eased herself up, resting on her elbow so she could look down at her husband. He slept on his side with one arm around her waist, a warm and pleasant weight, and one of his legs between hers. The light of dawn was dim, but she could still make out the scars that crisscrossed over his shoulder, the knots in his back from old blaster burns. All were from before they’d met, but Sade still felt an ache of sadness and a sense of failure. She had always been an excellent healer; having a crew dependent on her abilities had driven her to perfect her skills, and the hits that she failed to deflect she healed immaculately. He faced immeasurable dangers with her and she owed him that at least, to ensure that their partnership would not leave him marred.


	19. My Hands Are Red (Sith Warrior Kezmir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ran into Darth Vowrawn and fell in love with his devious dapperness.

The Wrath’s Captain was a charming fellow, with all the intelligence and diplomacy that Vowrawn expected in a man of his rank. And stature, he thought as they made their way carefully through the debris. Fortunately, the Captain was wearing white pants, which made following his swaying hips down the darkening Corellian streets much easier. Delightfully so.

“Your master is quite unlike any Sith I’ve ever met,” he said, a bland conversational opener, especially considering all the events of the past few hours, but Vowrawn pardoned himself with the excuse that he never thought particularly well in dirty robes. “I must say, I am curious how you became involved with her.”

He had chosen the word “involved” deliberately, and while the good Captain Quinn kept his features impassive, Vowrawn felt a flare of emotions from the man. Ah, he thought, a pity. The Wrath did not seem to be the sharing type.


	20. Sealing Your Red Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Darth Vowrawn! Inspired by his quote about Lt Pierce, "I wish I could harness his ferocity." Shades of dubcon.

Fed, cleansed, in fresh robes on the Wrath’s functional but unimaginative bed, Vowrawn felt much better prepared for intercourse. “Do sit down, Lieutenant,” he said to the pacing soldier. “You can hardly expect Baras to burst through the hatch at this hour.”

“Apologies, my lord.” Lt. Pierce obeyed the order respectfully enough, seating himself across from Vowrawn with his massive rifle across his lap. Clearly the Lieutenant hadn’t been reassured by the Captain’s report of their relative safety, but he followed his instruction to serve as a personal guard well enough, albeit without the Captain’s sense of obsequiousness. Vowrawn wasn’t insulted, however. There was a pleasure in watching the large man fidget, especially when his hands ran over the barrel of his gun. 

“I’ve heard about your exploits on Taris,” Vowrawn began, then paused to ensure that the Lieutenant’s attention was fully on him. The man was lacking in some departments, but he was no fool and had a shrewdness that had made him so valuable to the Wrath. Vowrawn continued, mixing amusement into his tone, “Yes, communications reach us through the warzone. Very impressive, Lieutenant.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” Pierce replied promptly. “I do what I can for the Empire.”

“Indeed.” Vowrawn sipped at his brandy - decent, though hardly the caliber of what he normally drank - and pushed a bit harder. “Well, you are to be commended. I’m sure your master will see to your reward once this business has been settled. You’ve served her well.”

Ah, there was the flicker in the Force. Impatience, lust, not a small bit of jealousy. In the pregnant pause that followed, Vowrawn entertained himself by wondering how the Wrath divided her evenings.

Finally Lt. Pierce spoke again, his gruff voice delightfully low, “I’ll serve my lord for as long as she’ll have me.”

“And does she?”

Silent confusion was his response. Unlike the Captain, there was no blush, but Pierce’s frowning lips were attractive enough. Vowrawn waved his hand in a lazy movement. “You master is a powerful ally, of course. But perhaps I can offer something different. In addition.”

“My lord?”

“Come here, Lieutenant.”

There was a unique thrill in commanding tall men to kneel. Vowrawn kept his snifter one hand while he guided Pierce’s mouth with the other. He kept his grip on the man’s jaw when he came, but the Lieutenant’s shrewdness once again saved him and Pierce swallowed without trying to break free. 

The Wrath had such excellent taste in crew members.


End file.
